


two slow dancers (last ones out)

by packrat



Series: ke one parters [6]
Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Bisexual Character, Canon Divergence, Gen, Second person POV, eve leaves niko, eve packs and runs, eve second person pov, inspired by two slow dancers by mitski, mention of elena - Freeform, mention of niko - Freeform, mention of oksana|villanelle, sometime first season after ep 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:42:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21851629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/packrat/pseuds/packrat
Summary: Eve contemplates her relationship to Niko only to come to the conclusion she comes to every night. Except that she’s going through with it this time.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Niko Polastri, Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Series: ke one parters [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1712638
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	two slow dancers (last ones out)

**Author's Note:**

> story and title from Two Slow Dancers by Mitski

Coming home from work is like a dance for you and Niko. A routine you both studied for decades and could perform in your sleep. If you had to compare it you’d perhaps call it a Viennese Waltz. Graceful but Staccato and you and him are masters at rotating around each other. Avoiding each other. And avoiding every topic that could set the other off. You don’t talk about your work and the gruesome (awesome) murders and assassins you’re currently tracking and he doesn’t ask and in return he doesn’t talk about his math classes, or Bridge Club. Or Gemma. 

It’s the same routine every night. It reminds you of a class reunion in a school gymnasium and you wish you could go back to meeting him for the first time and telling him that it’s a bad idea to marry you. And then you would meet him in 20 years time and you would have one dance after he insists and persists and asks and asks again and you reminisce for three minutes and then go your separate ways again. Only to meet in another 20 years time again. 

It’s a different kind of dance you imagine. 

It's funny how they're all the same. It doesn’t matter if there are decades spaced in between or only hours. Every scenario and every single night it’s the same: coming home. Key in lock. Door open. Door close. Shoes off. Coat on hanger. Groaning and complaining about the subway, about London, about tourists and people in general, that you’re getting older and every single one of your joints hurts and you’re constantly in pain. Niko listening absentmindedly and humming in affirmation every other minute. Food on plate in microwave because he already ate by himself. It’s late. Tonight it’s Shepherds Pie. You eating by yourself. Watching TV. Niko falling asleep. Waking him. Going after your studies. Going to bed. 

It's funny how he always remembers. Remembers to put a plate of food in the fridge for you. To listen. The whole routine. 

After all you’ve both done it all a hundred times before. 

It's funny how you still forget about the blandness every day until you exit the subway and only the walk to your front door is left. Work (Villanelle) is all consuming, it’s eating you alive but so is your life at home. 

It’s funny how it’s always the same, you think. How monotonous everything turned. You can’t quite remember when or what the turning point was but you know it’s been a long while. 

It’s funny how everything is the same. Only that it’s not. And both of you know it. Nothing has changed but everything has changed and you can feel it in the air. 

Coming face to face with Villanelle a few weeks ago is what changed everything. You’ve been staying later at work, desperately trying to track her down. He’s accusing you of having an affair, not paying him enough attention, of hating him. 

And he still loves you. 

And you, you can’t say you do. Couldn’t tell for a long time. 

It would be a hundred times easier if you were young again. If you had the chance to talk him or yourself out of it. Or if you had pursued another career in another part of the world and never met Bill and Elena and Kenny and Carolyn. 

But as it is and it is you’re just two slow dancers, last one out. On one hand you don’t want it to end. On the other it’s all you’ve been yearning for for years. For years on years on years. 

After coming face to face with Villanelle you tried to convince yourself that living like this with Niko would be okay. Would be manageable. Existing and surviving. Bridge club. Boring. But the ground has been slowly pulling you back down and you’d realized that you couldn’t go on like this: surviving but not living, hearing but not listening, breathing but also asphyxiating. Going to work and going home and dreading going home and staying at work longer and longer until your colleagues start making fun of you and asking you if you live in the office. 

You’re getting older and you see it on both your skin. If you were younger you might have tried harder. Might have agreed to marriage counseling, to hiking trips, to visiting his parents more often. 

He got you for a few years and then life wanted you back. 

By now you’re sitting in front of the TV, a murder documentary you can’t focus on running in the background, your mind too preoccupied by the options of running away and chasing after honey blonde hair and inaccessible cat-like eyes. Niko is snoring beside you and you hate that he’s so loud. A loudly breathing and heavily snoring person. There’s some pie stuck in his moustache and you cringe. 

You haven’t kissed him in days. Evade him every time his lips come close to you. 

You know it’s now or never. Knew from the moment you woke up today that tonight is the day to end it. To run away and never look back.

Cherished the dancing around each other for one last time. 

You text Elena and ask if you can sleep on her couch for a few nights. She responds immediately and tells you “of course” and to “bring wine”. 

You go upstairs and quietly pack your things. Pack all the things Villanelle sent you after stealing your luggage. You wonder where she is right now and hope to find her within the next 24 hours and will finally be able to hunt her down. 

You don’t know now but it’ll happen in a few weeks time. You’ll find her Paris apartment and trash it and you’ll tell her how you feel. 

And you’ll almost kill her. 

But for now you just stuff the most necessary things in a backpack and you get ready to leave. Your packing is a messy and haphazardly stuffed bundle of fabric in your favorite black bag. Niko had always packed for you. 

Before you go you wake him up and tell him to go into bed. He asks why you’re dressed. You tell him there’s an emergency at work. He rolls his eyes, huffs and gets up without even trying to kiss you. The stairs creak one by one under his weight and the door to the bedroom falls shut. 

For the longest time you pretended you could stay the same but something’s changed. You changed. A long time ago. You knew from the moment you met him that you’re incompatible. Yet he married you. And you married him. And you’re sorry. But you’re also not. To think you could stay the same is pure naïveté and it’s time to change direction. To hunt after Villanelle and make her your new dance partner. 

It would be so much easier if you were young again but as it is and it is you’re just two slow dancers for one last night. And you’re the last one out. Faintly registering the click of the lock of the front door falling closed as you’re heading into the direction of the subway station.

Running free for the first time in almost two decades.


End file.
